


You do make me hard (but she makes me weak)

by lovelywanderer



Series: Run me down (softly) [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Cheating, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Pining, Songfic, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, These boys are emotionally challanged, idk when this takes place, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelywanderer/pseuds/lovelywanderer
Summary: They don't talk about it and Billy never needs to know. Because he'll be gone in the morning, no matter how much Steve wants to wake up to strong arms around him, safe and warm, loved by the golden god in his bed.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler - Relationship, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler (mentioned)
Series: Run me down (softly) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572976
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	You do make me hard (but she makes me weak)

Steve doesn't know when exactly Billy starting staying the night. It wasn't something they talked about, because they never talk about anything. It was probably one of the really bad nights, with Billy's lip bleeding and his heart aching and his walls so high that he didn't even say anything to Steve while fucking him aggressively. 

Any kisses the two ever exchanged were forceful, an exchange of spit from Steve's mouth to Billy's and blood from Billy's to Steve. 

Now, Billy's sitting up in Steve's bed, cigarette burning, sheets pooled around his waist. It would almost be domestic, save for the bruises covering said torso and the fact that Steve is turned away from Billy, eyes shut in an attempt to block out the guilt and swallow his emotions. 

Billy'll be gone when he wakes up. 

He usually is, though once or twice his internal alarm didn't go off and Steve awoke to those ocean blue eyes blinking sleepily and a golden god lying in his bed. 

But Nancy's coming over tomorrow, for brunch or some "privileged yuppie shit like that". Nancy's coming over tomorrow and Billy and him don't talk about it, just turn on opposite sides as Steve flicks off the lamp. Darkness floods the room and the smell of smoke wafts around from the cigarette butt that Billy put out in the dish Steve put there just for him. 

They don't talk about it and Billy never needs to know. Because he'll be gone in the morning, no matter how much Steve wants to wake up to strong arms around him, safe and warm, loved by the golden god in his bed.

* * *

It's a Friday night and the booze has made Steve feel floaty, strapped down to the couch by his missing brain. Late night stragglers still mill around, couples making out on couches, the occasional fucked up teen clapping Steve on the back and thanking him for the good time. 

Steve doesn't care, can't do anything but stare across the room, blood boiling, as a blonde haired beauty stands chatting up some girl in _Steve's_ house. It feels  _ wrong.  _ For Billy to be there without Steve, feels like he's breaking some promise, and if Steve was any more sober, he'd know that what he was feeling was jealousy, and what he is doing is being a fucking hypocrite as Nance stays pressed next to his side. 

Later, once Nancy kissed him soft and halfheartedly goodnight, and his California boy pressed him against the wall and wrecked him and left Steve quaking and aching and alone, he'll walk through the empty house full of vomit and plastic cups and desperation, and search subconsciously for any trace of cigarette smoke and crisp ocean shampoo.

* * *

They exchange glances at school, in between "watch it Harrington" at a shoulder check, and "what's your deal man?" as Billy snears at him from where Tommy and him stand, glaring at everyone. 

The glances make up for the harsh words, and the softer the words they never exchange during harsh kisses in the locker rooms or quick blow jobs in the showers after practice. 

The shoulder checks get warmer, more intentional, Steve yearns for every touch he can, longs for the moments in private when Billy looks him in the eyes, lifts his chin up, and for a moment they can pretend. Pretend like Steve isn't utterly alone while tethered to someone else, and pretend like Billy won't leave in the morning and go home to cautious steps and tense shoulders. They are lonely and afraid, as all neglected, unloved teenage boys become.

* * *

There are moments where Steve thinks that he might be okay with being Billy’s  _ friend _ . It’d never be enough, but maybe that way he wouldn't have to let go of the laughter and teasing and being nearly being pushed in the pool, though never actually falling, cause Billy _knows_ , is the only one who will ever really know, everything that keeps Steve up at night. 

Maybe if they were friends, Steve wouldn't be left alone in a big, empty, hollow house, switching from beers with Billy, to whiskey and tears with the demons that hide under his bed and tap on his windows. 

Maybe he'd even be safe and held, by a golden god, his California boy, instead of wondering if that perfect, angry boy is hurting, all by himself, while Steve stays all alone, longing for ocean blue eyes, strong hands, and soft whispers of  _ baby  _ in the middle of the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Song fic to Be My Mistake by the 1975  
> All mistakes are my own!  
> Comments are so so appreciated.


End file.
